


Drought Conditions

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Anakin/Padme, Comfort Sex, F/M, Polyamory, Post-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Reunion Sex, West Wing Title Project, background Obi-Wan/Anakin, eventual OT4 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 06:13:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16080140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: Being with Ahsoka again felt like that first sip of water after he'd been out in the desert too long.





	Drought Conditions

**Author's Note:**

> AU where Anakin manages to walk back his fall before he ruins everything. This takes place several years after the formation of the Empire.
> 
> Thanks so much to Snacky for listening and helping me to make this a better story. All errors are my own. Written for the West Wing Title project.

Anakin knew Ahsoka was alive. Well, _knew_ was probably too strong a word for it. He'd suspected. He'd sensed. He figured he'd have known if she'd died, and since he didn't, he figured she hadn't.

Still, it was a shock to run into her in the hallway outside Bail's office—she was on the way out while he was on the way in. He wondered if Bail had planned it that way, but no, _Bail_ wouldn't have. Padmé might have. She was still angry with him (she would probably always be angry with him on some level and he was learning to live with that) but she was still so kind. Kind enough to let him visit his kids when she could have so easily refused for reasons he couldn't even argue with. Kind enough to arrange an accidental meeting with his former padawan, and never take any credit for it. He preferred to think that, anyway. Otherwise, it was an accident, the sort that could easily get Bail and everyone in the royal palace killed. Since that currently included Anakin's estranged wife and children, he really hoped it was Padmé's kindness instead.

Ahsoka looked well. She'd grown tall, as tall as he was if he counted her montrals, and he was sure she would.

Her mouth opened and closed and the word master hovered in the air between them, unsaid. Suddenly he could feel her surprise in the Force, bright and chiming, where moments before she'd been a blank. He'd have to ask her how she'd done it; it was never something he was good at, and he hadn't been the one to teach her. It was a good trick to know nowadays.

"Skyguy," she said, her voice rougher and deeper than he remembered.

"Snips." His own voice was hoarse with emotion.

"It's good to see you—Anakin."

His mouth curved in a small smile. "It's good to be seen."

"It is, but," she glanced back over her shoulder, "maybe not here?" She held out a hand and he took it, planning to pull her into a hug until he felt the comm unit against his palm. He curled his fingers around it when she let go, and she smiled. "See you soon." She leaned in again and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and was gone before he could respond.

His meeting with Bail was brief and businesslike, the conversation consisting of Bail giving him target coordinates and credits to purchase equipment. It was difficult to hold his tongue and take orders from this man who'd adopted his daughter, who was raising her as his own to keep her safe. Anakin understood the necessity, but it stung, every time, to know Leia would call another man 'father,' and he would only ever be her Uncle Ani who visited occasionally and brought weird Outer Rim candy for her to eat. He did it, though, to keep her and the rest of his family safe, since it was his failure to do that in the first place that had landed them all here.

Padmé assured him that they would tell her once she was old enough to understand how important a secret it was to keep, but patience had never been Anakin's strong suit. At least she was always happy to see him on his rare visits, which was more than he could say for his wife sometimes. As much as he wanted to be with his family, he only wanted it if they could _be_ a family. And until Palpatine was dead, that was impossible. He couldn't imagine living with it day-to-day, having to pretend Leia wasn't _his_ , which is what Padmé had to do every day. It was, he thought, the real reason she still couldn't forgive him. 

His relationship with Luke was less fraught (after much discussion, the Organas hadn't adopted him), but the ache of missing him—missing _them_ —was physical, and Anakin always had to talk himself out of flying straight to Coruscant to shove his lightsaber through Palpatine's chest afterwards. He knew it would only end badly for all of them, and so far he'd refrained. His stupidity had already cost him so much. He wouldn't let it cost him everything.

So the coordinates Ahsoka provided were a welcome distraction. He found her in a cantina on Christophsis, and slid into the booth next to her with a tight grin.

"Feeling nostalgic?" he asked before signaling the waitress to bring him one of whatever Ahsoka was drinking, which turned out to be Lothalian lager.

"Maybe," she replied with a tilt of her head and a half-smile. 

"I meant it," he said once his drink arrived. "It's good to see you. I'm so glad you survived."

She bumped his shoulder with her own and clinked her glass against his. "Me too." Her expression moved from rueful to solemn. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I—" 

Anakin sucked in a deep breath. "It wasn't your fault. I—" He forced himself to hold her gaze. "I made some bad decisions." He lowered his shields just enough for her to read his sincerity in the Force, and she reached over and squeezed his hand in response. He squeezed back and kept hold of it as he continued, "I also meant it when I said I was proud of you, Ahsoka."

She blinked rapidly, and he knew he wasn't the only one who'd gotten a little choked up. She shook her head and clinked her glass against his again, breaking the moment. "And I'm glad you made the right decision in the end."

He swallowed hard. "Yeah." He knew better than to argue. That would be refusing to accept the gift she was giving him, whether he deserved it or not. (He didn't, but he was trying to become a person who did.)

It wasn't safe to speak too openly about the past, or the present, for that matter, not with most of their time taken up by missions for Bail and Padmé's rebellion. They knew each other well enough that they didn't really need to do much talking, though Ahsoka kept up a stream of steady, inconsequential patter about the various repairs she'd had to make on her ship and the bewildering caution of her astromech.

"Not every droid can be like Artoo, I guess," she said with a sigh. "Is he still with you?"

"He is." Anakin smiled. "Incorrigible as ever."

"I wonder who he learned that from." Ahsoka leaned against him, a warm weight at his side, and he could almost imagine that the intervening years hadn't happened, that she'd been knighted, and they were just two Jedi relaxing after a mission.

It was a pretty fantasy and one he couldn't sustain for more than a few minutes, even with two beers making everything soft around the edges.

Still, Ahsoka's laughter was familiar and she didn't treat him any differently than she used to, and that was more than he could ask for. Even if her taste in racing teams was terrible.

Anakin didn't want another drink, didn't want to go from warm and tipsy to drunk, but he also didn't want to go back to his ship and be alone again. Artoo was great, and Anakin was thankful for him every day, but sometimes he missed people—specifically, he missed _his_ people, the small family he'd made for himself during the war and then lost, piece by piece. He still had Obi-Wan, of course, but they'd been on separate missions for a while now, and Anakin had never been great at being alone. Being with Ahsoka again felt like that first sip of water after he'd been out in the desert too long.

Ahsoka put her glass down on the table and said, "Don't freak out."

Anakin straightened up, drawn out of his reverie, and scanned the cantina for threats. Ahsoka laughed and cupped his cheek, then turned his face to hers and kissed him.

Her soft, full lips pressed against his and he jerked back in shock. Ahsoka wore a rueful half-grin, and her eyes were lit with amusement, so he hadn't offended her, at least. 

"This is new," he said cautiously.

Ahsoka tilted her head and bit her lip, so maybe not so new for her? That was something he was going to have to think about later. 

"Good new, I hope," she answered.

"I—Padmé—" He fumbled, because it _was_ good (at least, his body thought so), or it could be, but— "I've never stopped hoping she'll take me back."

"I know," Ahsoka said. "And she will. Someday."

"Maybe." He shook his head. "If you knew what I did."

"I know," she said again, and he flinched. She took his gloved hand and he wished he could feel more than a slight pressure when she squeezed it. "But I also know she still loves you."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"Which part?"

He swept his other hand out and knocked over his glass. "Any of it!"

"Come on," she said, sopping up the small puddle of beer with a wad of napkins and dropping some credits on the table. "Let's get out of here." She slid out of the booth and held her hand out to him and he knew there was no way he wasn't going to take it, even though he also knew all the reasons he shouldn't.

*

Ahsoka's light freighter was docked at a dilapidated spaceport on the outskirts of the city that Anakin was pretty sure wasn't legal, but he didn't ask. It was a small ship, and beat up, but Anakin could tell it had been modified more than once, in ways that weren't readily apparent unless you knew what you were looking for. 

"Nice ship," he said. She beamed at him and started rattling off the specs while giving him the five-credit tour, and some of the awkwardness between them dissipated. Right up until she opened the door to her quarters and sat down on the bed.

"Ahsoka—" 

She laughed softly. "You can stay there by the door if you feel the need to protect your virtue."

"When you put it that way, I sound ridiculous." He took the two steps to the bed and sat next to her.

"You _are_ ridiculous, Master. I mean—"

"It's a hard habit to break." He still slipped and called Obi-Wan master, too. He waved a hand. "It doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you." Which wasn't exactly true, but he didn't want to make things weirder. The fact that the Council had withheld the title from him still stung, even though he'd proved them right in the end. He _hadn't_ mastered himself. He wasn't sure he ever would. But at least he'd learned which lines he wouldn't cross, and that had to count for something.

"Okay." She reached over and took his hands. "You asked if I was bothered by what you said."

"And what I did."

She nodded. "And what you did." She took a deep breath. "I was, for a long while. I thought, if I'd been there, if I hadn't left—"

He opened his mouth to refute that, because of all of them, she was the least to blame. He knew that, even if, at the time, he _had_ blamed her, the way he'd blamed everyone else for his own mistakes. The truth was, he'd failed her just like he'd failed everyone else.

She held up a hand and shook her head—she wasn't done speaking, and maybe she was refuting what he wanted to say. "But I can't change the past. I can only learn from it and move forward. 

"When Padmé told me what you'd done—Anakin, you thought you were ending the war. You were taking orders from the Supreme Commander of the GAR."

"It's not like I was ever that great at following orders I didn't want to follow, Ahsoka. You know that."

She huffed softly. "Yeah."

"And he was a Sith, and I knew it." Anakin swallowed hard against the memory of kneeling at Sidious's feet, at pledging himself to the dark side and feeling like he'd finally be able to get everything he wanted, in denial that it would be at the cost of everything he held dear. He forced himself to hold her gaze. "I committed war crimes."

"Yes," she said, her gaze clear and searching and holding his squarely. She was mesmerizing, and her stark agreement felt like abandonment all over again. "We all did. The entire war was a crime, a terrible one, committed against every sentient in the galaxy, and none of us were innocent. The moment the Senate took possession of the clones, we were all complicit." She dropped her gaze and he sucked in a shaky breath in what might have been relief. 

He tightened his fingers around hers. "When did you get so wise?"

Her mouth quirked in a blink-and-you'd-miss-it grin. "I had good teachers."

He bowed his head in acknowledgement, though this, at least, he felt he hadn't earned and didn't deserve. He hadn't protected her, hadn't been there when she needed him, had in fact been on the other side of Order 66 until Sidious demanded he kill the younglings in the Temple. 

He'd thought he'd be willing to do _anything_ to save Padmé, right up until a small voice in the back of his mind that sounded annoyingly like Obi-Wan asked what he'd do if after this, Sidious sent him after his _own_ child, who was sure to be more powerful in the Force than any of these Jedi younglings. It had been like being doused with cold water, washing away all his certainty and sense of righteousness, and leaving him with nothing but fear and shame and the sense that Padmé was going to kill him, if the clones didn't do it first.

"You protected the younglings," Ahsoka said, as if she could read his mind. He knew she couldn't, but he'd probably been bleeding his feelings all over her for the past little while. "Obi-Wan told me. He said he'd seen the security holos."

He had. He'd told Anakin, too, when he'd finally caught up with him. Anakin had been half out of his mind with anger and fear, confused about what to do next and eager to fight anyone who got in his way. Obi-Wan had brought him to Padmé's side and congratulated him on being a father. And then he'd locked Anakin up until they could come up with a plan.

When Obi-Wan had finally presented it to them, Anakin noticed he spoke mostly to Padmé. He still had a hard time looking at Anakin. They both did, and that was okay, because he was having a hard time meeting their eyes, as well. He knew it was making him defensive, he _knew_ he was at fault, but he had to make them _understand_. But they wouldn't listen. 

Instead, Obi-Wan outlined his terrible plan. He said, "I know this will be hard on you," and that at least Anakin would agree with. He got why Obi-Wan was suggesting they split up, but he didn't like it at all. 

"No," Padmé said, and Anakin's heart soared. She wasn't going to let Obi-Wan separate them. And then she said, "It really won't be."

At first, he thought it was the lingering pregnancy hormones making her irrational, but her response to _that_ remark was so vehemently negative he felt singed around the edges afterward. 

"I love you, Anakin. I do. But I can't even look at you right now." She flung her hands up in frustration. "I still don't understand how you could side with Palpatine in this, even for a moment."

"I did it for you and the twins!" he defended himself.

"No, you didn't." Her voice was sharp and her glare sharper. She could always see right through him, though she rarely called him on it the way she was now. "How could you have thought I'd want to raise our children in a galaxy ruled by the Sith?" 

"I couldn't lose you the way I lost my mother." The sour metal taste of fear flooded his mouth when he remembered the dreams, the familiar sense of helplessness rising in his chest and choking him. "I did it to protect you." He didn't mean to yell or loom, and the tiny shake of her head was a stinging rebuke.

"Did you ever think that maybe he was what I needed protection from?" she shot back. "I wish you had talked to me. When did we stop talking to each other?"

Later, in his more cynical moments, he would wonder if they'd ever really talked to each other at all, or if they'd really listened on the rare occasions they did talk about more than fleeting romantic nonsense. Then, he said, "You needed me to be strong." 

"Don't you dare turn this back on me, Ani. If you felt you couldn't talk to me—and I'm angry about that, too, in case you couldn't tell."

"Oh, I could."

"Why didn't you talk to Obi-Wan?" 

"He wouldn't have understood. He's never approved of our relationship. Even now he's trying to separate us."

Padmé shook her head sadly. "After spending ten minutes with him and Satine, how can you really still believe that?" She didn't stop to let him concede the point. "But fine, you didn't trust him with this. What about Ahsoka?" 

"She was on Mandalore. And she's sixteen! I was her master. I didn't want to burden her." He hoped she was still alive, that she'd somehow escaped the troops he'd left to protect her. Just one more thing he'd karked up. "I did speak to Yoda." He didn't say _so there_ , but he had a feeling she heard it anyway. "He told me to rejoice in your death. How was I supposed to accept that?"

That took her aback. She bit her lip and gathered her thoughts. "What about that nice Master Fisto? Or Aayla Secura? You were friendly with her, weren't you?" 

As friendly as he'd been with any Jedi, which wasn't particularly, though he'd liked Master Secura more than most. "I guess."

"There really wasn't anyone you could talk to _other_ than the Sith Lord who asked you to murder children?" 

He pointed an accusing finger at her. "You trusted him too. I'm not the only one who was fooled." She'd also started mistrusting him long before Anakin had, but he wasn't going to mention it and she wasn't petty enough to point it out.

She nodded. "I did, and I'm coming to terms with that betrayal, as well. But I trusted _you_. I married _you_. And now we're fugitives from a Sith emperor." One of the babies was crying, and that signaled the end of the yelling, because even he wasn't going to raise his voice around the twins if he could help it. As Padmé undid the clasps on the front of her dress so she could nurse, she said, "So I think Obi-Wan's plan is a good one. Bail can take Leia, and then I'll follow with Luke in disguise as a new addition to Breha's household. You and Obi-Wan can go and," she fluttered a hand, "do what you do to gather intel, and maybe in a few months I'll be less angry."

She hadn't let him hold her for more than a moment as she cried when Bail left with Leia, even though her heart had to be breaking the way his was, and she'd given him her cheek when he'd leaned in to kiss her goodbye upon her own departure, and he had to force himself to breathe through the incandescent suns of his own rage and fear as he watched her board a ship with Threepio and one of her handmaidens, and fly away with his son.

She had not been any less angry for the first couple of years, and she'd told him so. "We have to be honest with each other, Ani," she said one night after they'd put Luke down to sleep, and he'd hoped maybe she'd take him to bed. She hadn't. He'd been subjected to another harangue about his failures as a husband. "We can't just bottle up all the anger and frustration and pretend we don't feel it. That's how we ended up here in the first place."

And after three years of being on the run, sometimes alone (except for Artoo) but mostly with Obi-Wan, he agreed that maybe she was onto something. He still didn't like feeling helpless and afraid, but maybe telling someone (he still couldn't tell _her_ , still couldn't bear for her to think of him as weak) would help. Obi-Wan bore the brunt of these fearful confessions with something more than his usual grace, and a gentleness Anakin hadn't seen since he was a homesick boy. He knew Obi-Wan somehow blamed himself for Anakin's mistakes, even though Anakin himself was finally admitting it wasn't Obi-Wan's fault. Maybe this was Obi-Wan's version of penance. Anakin didn't care, as long as Obi-Wan didn't shut him out or, even worse, leave as well.

So Anakin hadn't liked the plan then, and he didn't like it now, but when Padmé had agreed with Obi-Wan, he'd conceded that it would keep her and the babies (twins! Even now, he sometimes still couldn't believe it.) safe, or at least as safe as anyone could be under Palpatine's new regime. And so far, it had worked. Padmé and the children _were_ safe, even if their marriage had been left in shambles. She still loved him, as he loved her, but she wasn't sure she could forgive him, for so many reasons, and after a long, hard, _honest_ look at himself over the past couple of years, he wasn't sure she should. 

Which brought him to here and now with Ahsoka and the question in her eyes.

He could only answer with questions of his own. "Knowing all of that, how can you want this? Want me?" He let out an incredulous, mirthless laugh.

She shrugged, her mouth twisting as she worked out what to say. Her lekku twitched, a sure sign of uncertainty, and she rolled her shoulders, but kept hold of his hands, which should have felt awkward but didn't.

"You're alive, and for a long time, I thought you were dead." She licked her lips. "You're the only one who believed in me. And you still do." She shook her head. "Maybe that shouldn't matter, but it does."

"Ahsoka—"

"I love you and I think you love me, even if it's not the grand passion you and Padmé share. I don't need it to be. You're one of my closest friends, and I want to _be_ close to you while I can. There aren't many people I can trust, and sometimes, I think _that's_ what's going to kill me before the Inquisitors do."

The easy way she said it, her voice low and intense and nothing but genuine, humbled him and made him proud all at once. He might not have seen her through to knighthood, but he thought there were few who'd ever deserved it more.

Still. He had to try again to talk her out of it. Everything he touched eventually turned to ashes. "Ahsoka—"

"If you don't want to because you don't want _me_ , or because you're still being faithful to your wedding vows despite your separation, that's fine. But don't reject me and pretend it's for my own good, and don't say no to punish yourself because you feel bad. If this is something you want, it's something you can have." She let go of his hands and leaned back, and he found he missed their warmth. 

He reached over and took them back, squeezing gently. "You make a compelling case, padawan." Which made her snort a laugh. "I was just surprised. And flattered," he admitted. "I never thought of you that way before."

"I was sixteen and you were happily married. I'd be surprised if you had."

He huffed softly, not quite a laugh.

"But I'm not sixteen anymore and—" She bit her lip, more diplomatic than she'd been at sixteen.

"And my marriage is a mess."

"I don't—" It was her turn to huff, more in exasperation than amusement though. "Padmé is my friend too, and I don't want you to think I'm disrespecting her, or your relationship. Which I'm sure you can repair. But in the meantime, I'm here. If you want me." 

It had been a while since Anakin had had sex with anything but his own left hand, though not quite as long as Ahsoka probably thought. His exile from Padmé's bed was ongoing, and as much as it hurt, her anger was still somehow easier to deal with than Obi-Wan's forgiveness, which he had a hard time accepting, let alone understanding. He'd turned to Obi-Wan for comfort more than once in the past few years, and surprisingly, Obi-Wan had reciprocated. Anakin had never even hoped for, let alone expected that, but neither of them was used to being alone, and they weren't very good at it. Maybe it was a Jedi thing, because here was Ahsoka now, seeking that same comfort from him. She didn't seem melancholy, though, not the way he and Obi-Wan were sometimes. Everything he could pick up from her in the Force pointed towards affection and hopeful desire, and he wanted more than anything to give that back to her if he could.

"Anakin? You with me here?"

"Yeah." The decision now was easy and it felt right. The Force hummed with satisfaction between them, and with a hint of expectation. He leaned in and kissed her gently. "Yeah, Ahsoka. I'm right here."

Her smile was bright and relieved and a little mischievous. He felt a tiny thrill at the sight of it, his anticipation and arousal flaring now that the decision was made. He kissed her again, just to feel that smile against his lips, and she laughed into his mouth. 

She pulled away briefly to say, "Kaytee, lock down the ship for the night." The droid's answering burble was cut off when she tossed her comm unit onto the small shelf built beside the head of the bed.

And then Anakin had a lapful of warm, sleek Togruta. She was heavier than he expected, muscular and solid and yet soft where she was pressed against him. Her skin was so smooth beneath the fingertips of his flesh hand, and she sighed into his mouth when he ran the back of his other hand down the length of her left lek. The Force bond between them, dormant for so long, flared back to life, and Anakin craved that connection even more than the physical one. The physical one was good, too, he thought, as a slow flush of heat washed through him. He could feel sweat beginning to dampen his hairline and gather at the small of his back. 

The calluses on Ahsoka's hands were familiar but new as they snagged on his stubble, and they both laughed. He pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand and then licked her thumb when she dragged it across his lower lip. 

"You can use your teeth," she said, and then demonstrated, a small nip at the hinge of his jaw and then another on his earlobe. Heat radiated through him, and his breath caught in his throat.

He cupped her chin so he could bring her mouth back to his, thirsty for the sensation of her full lips against his, for the slick heat of her mouth and the rough velvet of her tongue—he felt like he could spend hours just kissing her, listening to the minute changes in her breathing and the quiet sounds of pleasure she made when he touched her. Feeling all the little flutters of her delight in the Force. She was so open in her desire that he felt comfortable enough to reciprocate, letting his own joy in pleasing her reverberate between them.

They got her armored shirt and undershirt off easily, and she removed her bra with a gleeful flick of her wrists, exposing firm high breasts he wanted to kiss all over. He cupped them gently, learning their weight and shape, enjoying the eager way she pressed into his hands. The nipples formed into hard peaks when he thumbed them. That drew a gasp from her lips and a twitch from her hips. His cock ached from the contact, even through their clothes, and his mouth watered for the taste of her. 

He lost himself in the secret smell of the valley between her breasts, the taste of her sweat on the curves underneath, the way she moaned and writhed in his lap when he sucked on her nipples. He couldn't stop touching the smooth length of her lekku, enjoying the way she shivered when he stroked them. 

So he was surprised when she plucked at his shirt impatiently and said, "Why are you still wearing this?"

He laughed and let her tug it off over his head. He was glad she didn't say anything about how different it was from the tabards and tunics he used to wear. He figured she understood, better than almost anyone. 

She pushed him back against the bulkhead, the cool metal a startling contrast with her warm body, and explored him with hands and lips and teeth. His skin prickled with goosebumps when she found the spot along his ribs where he was ticklish and he gasped in surprised happiness. The Force chimed with their laughter and swelled between them, heavy with desire. Anakin basked in it, as hungry for the sensation as he was for the touch of Ahsoka's skin against his. 

"We don't have to go any further," he said, curling his fingers over hers as she worked to undo his fly. "Have you ever—?"

"Not with a man," she said with a wry half-grin. "But I want to, with you."

That sent another pleasurable wave of heat through him and he wriggled his hips in an attempt to help her get his pants off, but even if there'd been more room, she was still draped on top of him and showed no inclination to move.

"It'd be easier if we both got up," he said with an abashed grin. "Take our boots off. Get comfortable."

Her lower lip poked out in an adorable pout that he felt the urge to kiss, so he did, which distracted them both for a few more minutes, but finally, they decoupled themselves and stripped. He got distracted again watching her, all long legs and curved hips. 

"Less staring, more undressing," she said, hips cocked and arms akimbo.

He should have felt ridiculous, standing there with his boots off, one leg still in his trousers and a very obvious hard-on, but he didn't. Not with her. "You just—You look really good, Ahsoka."

She flushed, and he could see the color spreading across her chest. He wanted to chase it with his fingers. With his tongue. He felt giddy with desire, and the knowledge that it would soon be sated. That it was his—theirs—and no one could take it away from him. 

He managed to get his pants off without falling over, and dropped back onto the bunk.

"C'mere."

She gave a saucy little swivel of her hips and then pounced, knocking them both flat on the thin mattress. She dropped a quick kiss on his nose. "Hi."

He knew his smile had gone goofy but he didn't care. "Hi." He curled a hand around the nape of her neck, beneath the solid weight of her lekku, and drew her down into a wet, open-mouthed kiss. 

She ground down against him, the silky heat of her cunt rubbing along the underside of his cock, and he moaned encouragement into her mouth. The friction made every nerve in his body spark like live wires, and it was almost enough to make him come. But he wanted to be inside her when he did. When she did. 

"Can I—?" he managed and she nodded, curling her fingers around him and guiding him slowly inside her. "Kriff, you feel good, Ahsoka."

He watched as her eyes fluttered closed and her mouth opened in a gasp that ended in a low moan when he was fully sheathed inside her. He steadied her with a hand on her hip, while she braced herself with one hand on his shoulder. 

She started moving her hips, slowly at first, feeling her way, and he murmured encouraging nonsense as each thrust sent another jolt of electricity through him and echoed out into the Force, where it resonated between them. She skimmed her other hand over her lekku and belly before moving it between them to rub at the place where their bodies were joined.

"Let me," he said, using his left hand so he could feel her in every nerve and synapse and the Force.

She tightened around him, making them both gasp. "Please."

"Whatever you want, Ahsoka. I'm right here." He captured her lips again, but they were both too caught up in sensation to do more than pant into each other's mouths as they moved. He let her set the pace, even though he needed to move, needed to fuck up into the perfect wet heat of her cunt, needed to come deep inside her while she cried out his name. His urgency drove hers, magnified by the way they were linked in the Force, a feedback loop of want and need and pleasure, all buoyed on an upswell of affection.

She picked up her pace, her movements becoming more frantic and less graceful as she chased that same elusive pleasure, the tension of it ratcheting higher and higher between them, until if felt like even the Force would shatter when it broke.

"Just like that, oh please, Master, just keep—" Her fingernails dug into his shoulder and her teeth sank into his lower lip, a little painfully, but the pain was good, or maybe it was just being called 'master' while they were fucking that added an extra little fillip of pleasure. But he didn't want to think about that now, when blissful heat was racing up his spine and radiating outward through his entire body. 

"Come on, Ahsoka," he whispered against her lips, his fingers stroking her clit and urging her onward. "Come for me now."

She let out a low guttural moan and shuddered against him as she came, her cunt tightening around him, drawing him even deeper inside. In the Force, she was a supernova, and he was pulled over the event horizon in an explosion of bright light and white-hot pleasure. 

For a few moments they were nothing but feelings, mingling bright and glorious in the Force, bodies pulsing with satisfaction.

And then slowly, they both returned to earth, to their own bodies, separate and singular, but still joined, in ways that would linger on even after they were physically parted.

Ahsoka slumped over him and he cradled her close as he waited for his breathing and heartbeat to slow. 

"Mm," she said, aiming a kiss at his mouth and hitting his chin first. He breathed a laugh that she inhaled and returned, her lips gentle against his now.

He thought she was asleep—he was close to it himself—when she stirred and stretched languidly. "I'm going to clean up. I'll be right back."

His skin prickled in the cool air when she slid out of the bed, but then he was distracted by the sight of his come painting the insides of her thighs as she walked away, and he felt a surge of primal satisfaction. His cock twitched, but it would be a while before he was ready for more and she didn't seem interested, so he stored the memory for later, and let the feeling slip away. 

She came back from the fresher with a warm washcloth and muttered, "You humans and your hair," while she cleaned him up, as well. The happiness he felt at this small sign of care was surprising; he was suffused with love for her all over again, though she was right—it wasn't the same as what he felt for Padmé, or even Obi-Wan. It was its own thing, but no less real or full for being different. He wondered again how she'd gotten so wise, and knew he hadn't had much to do with it.

When she was done, she curled up against him, and that was familiar from long nights during the war, except now they were naked, and the small cabin reeked of sex, so it was impossible to forget that time had passed, and those days were over.

He slept through the night—he always had slept better with someone in bed with him—and woke to the low hum of her voice and the blue light of her comm unit winking out.

"Sorry," she murmured, "I had to take it."

"I know." He reached out hesitantly, wondering if she'd rebuff his touch now that she'd had time to think about it. She leaned into it instead, dipping her head to let him slide his fingers down her lekku. "Anything I can help with?"

"No," she said. "It's better if they don't see your face."

He hadn't asked what she did for Bail, and part of him wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he said, "If you need me—"

"Did you keep that comm I gave you?"

"Of course."

"It's encrypted seven ways to Savareen and the Imps haven't broken it yet. So if I ever need you—or you ever need me—it's a direct line." She smiled ruefully. "If you lose it, or if it becomes unsafe, Obi-Wan knows other ways to get in touch, or if you're working with Bail's people, you can always ask them to patch you through to Fulcrum."

He blinked. He'd heard the name occasionally, when he spent time with other small cells who were rebelling, but he mostly worked alone or with Obi-Wan, and he'd never made the connection. "Obi-Wan knows this?"

"Obi-Wan has his own private comm channel to me," she said. "And he knows how to get in touch with Fulcrum. I don't think he knows Fulcrum is _me_."

Anakin bit back his annoyance—it wasn't her fault. He understood the need for operational security, and he even, to some degree, understood why the others might still be wary of trusting him with something so sensitive, so he didn't care (much) about her code name being withheld, but the thought that Obi-Wan had kept her survival a secret from him rankled. 

"Master, please don't blame him," she said. She touched his forearm gently. "We only reconnected a couple of months ago. I was on Raxus, recruiting, and he was there, delivering supplies." 

Anakin hadn't seen Obi-Wan in almost four months, though they had spoken briefly once or twice. "I suppose he wasn't confident our comms were secure enough to share such sensitive information." And to keep Ahsoka safe, Anakin would have done the same. 

"Maybe. But I was happy to see him, and hear recent news of you." Ahsoka ducked her head. "Let's just say, _our_ meeting wasn't coincidental." 

"Obi-Wan arranged it?" It _did_ seem like the kind of thing he would do, especially because he knew how Anakin would react to having information about Ahsoka kept from him. They'd agreed, once things had become more settled between them in the aftermath of Anakin's stumble (he didn't like to call it a fall), to be as honest as possible with each other, since secrets had almost doomed them all, and the galaxy with them.

"No." Ahsoka shook her head. "He wasn't sure when he'd see you again and he didn't want to compromise your security. I was already supposed to be on Alderaan, though, so—"

"Bail set it up?" Anakin couldn't keep the skepticism out of his voice. Bail wouldn't have spoken of him, but Padmé might have. She might even have said something nice, though Anakin wasn't optimistic. 

"No. He was against it." Her mouth twisted. "I can't blame him—it's his family and his planet at risk if we get caught there. The last time I spoke with her, I asked Padmé if I could see you sometime and then there you were." Her mouth smoothed out into a wide, delighted smile. "There haven't been many good surprises over the past few years, but that was one of them."

So he'd been right about that, at least. Then he said, "Did she know that you wanted to—?" He gestured between them, unsure of how to phrase it.

"Have sex with you?" Ahsoka laughed and cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip. "Always so awkward, Master. No, I don't think she did. At least, I didn't mention it." She laughed again, and he gave her a quick, rueful smile. "I didn't even know I was going to suggest it until I did." She shifted on the bunk so she could kiss him gently. "It felt right, and I'm glad I did it. But if you want to forget it ever happened, or if you don't want it to ever happen again, I understand." She dropped her hand to her lap.

He picked it up and held it between his, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "No, Ahsoka, I'm glad too. I needed it, needed _you_ , and I always will." He pressed a kiss to her palm. "So you should comm me even if you don't need help on a mission. Even if you just want to spend a night with a friend."

"You too, you know. You don't have to go it alone."

"I know," he replied. "I forget sometimes, but I'm glad I have you back now to remind me."

"What would you do without me?" she teased.

"I don't ever want to find out." His tone might have been joking, but he meant every word sincerely. Life had been terrible without her, in the final days of the war, and the first lonely years afterward.

They parted shortly after that, when Artoo buzzed him to find out where he was and if he needed to be rescued. 

Before he left her ship, he kissed her forehead and her lips, warm and tender. "May the Force be with you, Ahsoka,"

She smiled at him and stroked his cheek gently. "And with you, Anakin. Always."

Artoo shared his excitement about reconnecting with Ahsoka, and as they blasted off to handle their latest mission for the rebellion, Anakin thought that he was well on his way to repairing some of the damage he'd done, not just to his family, but to the galaxy, too. 

end

**Author's Note:**

> Rebelling is hard, okay, and people need to take comfort where they can find it. There may be more stories in this AU about the various relationships going on here as they muddle their way through to a four-way relationship.


End file.
